Justin is a senior banker specialising in mergers and acquisitions at a big investment bank in London’s Canary Wharf. If anyone is a “master of the universe”, it is Justin, who never does tell me how much he earns, nor even how many digits his income runs to. I’d hazard a guess at seven, maybe eight in a good year. “I’m underpaid for what I bring in to the bank,” is all he’ll say. My initial contact with him is a Saturday-morning phone call. I am just struggling into consciousness; Justin has been up for hours, sealing a deal in Africa. He says he gets to his office at 7am every day, and is often still there at midnight. The attraction of the City of London for financiers is that it spans time zones and acts as a bridge between the US and the rest of the world – hence the 17-hour day. The other seven hours can be left to Wall Street. Even investment bankers occasionally have to sleep. A few days after our initial phone conversation (when Justin warns me that “we see the Guardian as the enemy”), we meet at a hotel in Mayfair, where he has… Read full this story
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